


Moonlight

by WinchesterNimrod



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Damian Wayne Feels, Gen, Immortality, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Police Officer Dick Grayson, Protective Batfamily (DCU), Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Dick Grayson, Psychic Damian, Secrets, The Shining Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27666812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterNimrod/pseuds/WinchesterNimrod
Summary: After witnessing a premonition of Jason's death, Damian objects. Strongly.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 85





	1. One

Within Damian Wayne’s mind Shined. And it was beautiful. It was a Shine that eclipsed the sun and the nebulas above. Radiating the glare of a collapsed planet. Burning any and hopeful darkness that threatened to overshadow it. 

Without a doubt Damian Wayne’s, Shine was the biggest and brightest of them all.

Ever since a babe, a toddler, a child, Damian knew of his Shine. Aware of its shimmer behind his eyes. A warm beneath his fragile skin. If peeled back would there be veins, muscle and bone - or a cosmos swirling around? Would his blood dribble sparkles like nailpolish?

Often Damian feels silly when he does bleed or break bones. Finding out that he is indeed built like any other human being. It takes him by surprise. He expects more because he feels more.

As expected the Shine does not equalise divine sanity. 

.

His Shine does not adhere to the time of relativity, either.

.

Arkham Asylum is a place his Shine devoured with a ravishing thrill. Its haunted manor of life gave Damian pleasure beyond understanding. Emotions were immense in this house. Heightened. Giant. His Shine sucked them down. Engulfed them in its gleaming glare.

The Joker especially was a feast.

When a riot at the Asylum came through on the transmitter at the Cave and Bruce told them to move, Damian was damn near hovering from glee.

“Remember,” Bruce said on the drive. Cowl concealing everything but his mouth and his thoughts; thoughts that read concern and determination. “Stick close and don’t wander off.”

Damian wandered off.

Formidable these brutes were not. He swam through the sad excuses of humanity. Batons making quick work of their bodies. Shine vacuuming up their grand insanity in a gluttonous craze. Damian was fourteen going on immortality, and he hoped there would be more dreadful opponents to come in his near future. So far everything was turning up to be frightfully dismaying - appetising they were, fun they were not.

Bruce found him in the solitary confined prisons below. Hauling zip tied inmates into cushioned rooms. The man’s dim shine, not worth a capital as how pathetic it was, showed restrained fury and coiled frustration. He was dishearten at Damian’s snafu.

  
“All done here, Batman.” He reported. Proud at his crumpled pile of bruised and battered enemies.

Bruce took out a handkerchief from somewhere on his person and dabbed his face clean of blood.

He got a lecture back at the cave. Damian heard but did not listen. The soft ideals of his father held little when Damian could hear what he truly thought. That inner creek of thought his father suppressed, the thoughts Damien understood and agreed with. They were the kind his elder brother Jason followed. The kind he hoped to once of age.

“Yes, Father,” he said once his Father’s tirade ceased was dismissed to his bedroom. On his way through the manor he ran into Alfred. The man’s own shine was considerably larger than his Father. It shimmered of sensitivity and kindness. Produced a calm tranquility of a flowing lake Damian used to see around his Grandfather’s place. It was the polar opposite of Damian’s own capricious Shine.

“Will you be needing any refreshments, young master Damian? Sliced apple,” The man looked him up and down. Damian is aware of his uniform’s ugly stains. How his hair clumped together in odd pieces of dried blood. The back of his neck began to itch. “Warm bath perhaps?”

“That would do lovely, Aflred.”

“Very good. I will go run a bath, please undress and leave the uniform in the laundry basket.”

Kindness is the greatest shine humanity could produce. One Damian liked to be near like a warm bonfire.

  
“Thank you, Alfre-“ Damian opened his bedroom door. Word collapsing at his lips. He took a disorienting step. Chill crawling up his arms and neck like ants. He was an apartment. A deteriorating, dreadful apartment. One that should be nocked down and refurbished. Mold grew behind peeled back wallpaper. Cockroaches skittered out and under discarded takeaway boxes. Through the windows he saw it was daylight. Sunlight reflected off a dance studio sign.

On the couch was Jason. Beaten body dropped in a dead weight. Glassy milk eyes stared up at the ceiling. Parted mouth dripping red. Holes in chest gushing red. His red helmet dropped from his hand off the couch. Damien jolted back and out of his room.

“Damian?”

He turned to the voice. Tim Drake, eyebrow arched, asked if he was alright. Alfred was nowhere to be found.

Damian turned back to his room to see it had changed back. “Tell Alfred I won’t be needing a bath.”

.

The dance studio Jason lived opposite had two addresses. One was outside Gotham, one inside Gotham. He went to the second one. Damian did not dislike Jason, though he was of the opinion that they could go on life fine without talking to one another. Having Jason die would be unfortunate but not terrible. What would be terrible is his father’s guilt.

Damian had to prevent that. He is a good son. Shall no one say otherwise.

  
Despite the laborious evening of patrol. New bruises and crust of blood, Damian made it to the apartment in under twenty minutes.

Polite knocking is not something Damian and Jason practice as such he kicks the apartment door in. The hinges release a set of poison needles. And he would have died had he not stayed put a second before entering.

Damian almost cursed aloud at spotting Jason sprawled exactly how he had seen him not momentarily ago - then the body not jerked upright waving two guns directed at him, so Damien kept silent. Head cocked in complete disinterest and judgement at the state of affairs going on the apartment.

“Jesus fucking Christ pipsqueak!” Jason slouched. Safety clicked back. “I could have shot you.”

“As if,” Damian snorted at the mere implication. “I’m staying.” He said in a final tone that a Lawyer would use when divorcing a couple. Hands clenched behind his back, Damian roamed through the apartment. Eye and Shine seeking out possible death traps Jason might fall into. He spotted one rusty nail on a wall that reeked of tetanus. Surviving the Lazarus Pit then dying of tetanus would be shameful. Jason stood and followed him, bewildered and offended at Damian stepping all over his territory with keen judgemental eyes and aura.

Vaguely, he is aware Jason is grumbling some obscenities

.

“Have a row with the old man?” He caught.

Damian pulled back the shower curtain and grimaced at the brown tub - which by all accounts should be white. He met Jason’s stern face. “I’ll have you know my relationship with our Father is strong as ever and me staying here tonight has everything to do with it.”

This could not have confused Jason more if he tried. His eyes danced of puzzlement.

“Don’t try to understand,” Damian took pity and walked around the man, “your mind couldn’t even begin to fathom the depths of my thought process.”

Caught completely unaware, Damian is gripped by the shoulders and pushed against the hallway wall. He stared up at Jason’s thunderous face, again uninterested.

“I am not your brother,” he hissed over him. “We are not family. Get out.”

Damien almost smiled. “No.”

He’s thwacked against the wall. “Get out!” Jason roared.

Seeing the Pit leech its hold on his brother, Damian’s Shine reached out and pressed down like squishing a mouse. Green bleeding eyes rolled back, Jason collapsed backwards. Damian rubbed his shoulders and stepped over the body, head shaking. Tongue ‘tsk’ing. Honestly his mother should have done a better job at taking care of him while she could.

Not seeing this place fit to live in, let alone sleep in, Damian found it extremely bothersome tidying up. Once he could confidently state he had eradicated the couch of anything that a health inspector would sob at, Jason roused in the hallway. Grunting and flinching awake in a fit.

“Kid?” He called. Damian popped off his domino mask and dropped onto the couch. Jason emerged from the hallway. Hand braced against the wall, other rubbing the back of his head that is surely bruising nicely. Good. “You’re still here.”

“I said I would be staying,” Damien said. Tone dryer than the Sahara. “Goodnight, brother.” He bid and whirled around so his face would be against the backrest and feigned sleep. Cape wrapped around in a cocoon.For a moment he heard Jason do nothing but breathe deeply before turning around to where his bedroom was. Nothing but a council pickup mattress with council pickup pillows.

Damian will have to have words with Dick about this later. For now he’s going to make sure his other brother doesn’t get himself shot. The idiot.


	2. Two

Damian’s only wish right now was to be home. Lie in a clean bed with clean sheets and clean pyjamas. As always what Damien wished wasn’t important. The survival of his brother was. After a fitful night of ghostly dreams Damian woke to holding Jason’s phone in his hand at the kitchen table. In the other was a half-eaten apple.

Time had passed and failed to tag Damian along.

“ _\- is he there?_ ” Dick’s voice spoke from the phone. 

“Hello brother,” Damian said and bit into the apple presumed his own. A quick summary of the scenery provided adequate knowledge that the day was somewhere around six in the morning and Jason was having a shower in that tragic excuse he called a bathroom. “Is Titus well?”

“ _Your dog is fine, Damian_ ,” Dick exasperated, “ _Jason. Is he there? I want to talk to him_.”

“Can’t. He is indisposed.”

“ _Right. Why are you at Jason's?_ ”

Small question, long-winded answer. Damien kicked off his Robin boots and sat himself on the edge of the table. Feet swinging. “Sometimes dear brother, there are questions that cannot be answered.”

There was shuffling on the line. “ _Does this have anything to do with Arkham?_ ”

  
Damian heard the shower go off and a door open, he glanced to the hall where Jason would turn.

  
“None whatsoever. Stop needling, you won’t get an answer. You wouldn’t even know the right question to ask.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Dick sighed.

Into the lounge room, Jason appeared wrapped in a moth bitten dressing gown. Spotting Damian on his phone, he arched an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at preschool or something?”

Maybe he should just let him die.

Damian held the phone out that kept on emitting Dick’s voice. “For you.”

Face scrunched, Jason took it asked - “…Yeah?” - and grew even more scrunched at hearing his brother’s voice. “I didn’t ask him to do anything he came on his own accord!”

  
Damian scratched the back of his neck where there was still crusted blood.

.

Contradictory, Jason stocked wet wipes in his medicine cabinet. Damian used those to cleanse himself of the aftermath at Arkham Asylum while his two brothers squabbled over the phone. Cleaned he sought clothes from the pile inside Jason’s bedroom. He paused at the Red Hood outfit neatly packed deep in the clump. Hands ran over spots where bullet holes will meet sooner or later.

Sweatshirt and pants swallowed his much smaller frame despite Damian being above average height for a teenager. He used his Robin cape to keep the outfit bundled up. For a while he sat on the mattress and looked around the dreary room. How could a son of Wayne live in such conditions was beyond understanding.

“Oi, Pipsqueak,” Jason strolled into his bedroom. Momentarily taken aback by Damian in his clothes. “Alright, well, Bruce is coming to pick you up.”

“What?” Damian frowned. Not warm that plan at all. He was frigid. “Call him back.”

Jason walked up and tapped his phone on Damian’s head, “No can do, kid. You’re booted.”

He was booted.

Damian could do nothing than sit on the couch opposite Jason’s irate looming form while they waited for their father. Once Bruce did turn up, Jason’s stoical face turned incongruously more frigid by the second.

He answered the door, grunted an acknowledgement and gestured for Bruce to take the package away.

“Don’t patrol while I’m gone,” Damian ordered before the door managed to shut. “Father we must arrange new housing for him. The state of that place is worse than a dog kennel.”

“I’ve already tried. Jason is stubborn that way.” Bruce said and led them down the rickety flight of stairs in the apartment building. Passing a passed out drunk and homeless people on the way. “If I ask will you tell me why you came here?”

“No,” Damian tensed at the bottom step. He met his Father’s hard, concerned eyes. “I know what I’m doing, Father. Don’t worry.”

“I always worry.”

.

Night fallen, in the heart of Gotham atop a building crouched two black figures.

“Stay behind me,” Bruce ordered. Tone not a teensy bit relenting.

“Yes, Batman.” Truth be told Damian had every intention to do as ordered, if only for the first hour to ease his Father’s tension.

It was during a scuffle with a gang in an alleyway, interrupting an attempted assault, that Damian saw it. He was zip tying a man’s hands behind his back. Knee pressurising a very specific and painful spot on the spine when a red helmet rolled to a thump against his foot. Damian’s eyes led them from the helmet to the soulless body of Jason. His eyes met vacant ones. Breath caught Damian hadn’t realised he was still pulling on the zip tie until the man began thrashing and screaming.

He looked down and saw the tied plastic had cut into the skin of his wrists.

“Robin!” Batman shouted, pulling him back to release his hold. “Secure the others. _Safely_.”

Damian had absolutely no intention to do that. The moment Batman had his back turned Damian flung himself up the alley’s fire escape and across the roof tops of Gotham. Too quick and so sudden Bruce could do nothing but shout.

.

Shine leading the way, Damian tracked Jason to the city’s docks. Gunfire louder than lightning erupt in the confines of the outside holding bay. Damian pranced over metal crates. Following the sound to the epicentre where Jason stood. Surrounded by Black Masks men no doubt - they both had a bone to pick with each other the moment Jason was resurrected.

Why Jason didn’t just kill the man already Damian would never know.

He dropped down next to his brother taking refuge behind a crate and ducked fire.

“You!” Jason hissed. Face hidden behind his helmet. “Get out of here right now.”

“And leave you having all the fun? Absolutely not,” Damian snorted and snatched one of his guns. “Grandfather taught me all forms of defence, no use in being surprised brother. Let me take a load off your shoulders, hmm?” And with that witty remark Damian rolled across the ground. Shooting off several knee caps before sprinting. Leaping in a zigzag the small alcove of crates provided and landed in enemy territory. “Come along brother!” Damian made quick, brutal work of the gang members just as his mother taught him. Jason was close behind, similarly doing work that was worth the weight of two not one.   
  
“Alright, I admit,” Jason nodded. Staring at their quick takedown of men and women. “You’re not half bad.”

  
“Not half bad,” Damian mimicked in a high-pitched girly tone as he tossed Jason his emptied gun. “The thanks I get for saving your hind.”

“More I say to others, brat,” Jason said so with a raised finger. His eyes swooped around, “Hey, where’s Batman?”

“I ditched him.”

For a long second Jason was silent. He then burst into laughter. Head thrown back laughter that tinkled into the night. It was a lovely sound, a shame the world did not hear it more often.

Damian allowed a smile. He had saved his brother, and with it his family’s happiness.


End file.
